Wakanda Falls
by Kuro Guardian
Summary: TL;DR - T'Challa said let them come and come they did.


Hmm? Who is there in the grass? No. There is no point in hiding child, I see you. Come, boy – are you hurt? Ah yes, that would bring tears. Come then let me see it – I have something for that I think. When our land still stood I worked in one of the Great labs. There was so much good there, so much wonder and potential! But it is gone ground beneath the boots of empty-headed boys and the bitter old men who lead them. Still, I have saved some things, give your hand to me – ah I know it stings, but see it is already much better.

Now then a man who does not weep is a fool at best, but for now, the weeping must be left to the dead. We have no time for tears, the Kingdom has fallen and soon the last roar of the ancestors will sound – if we wish to live we cannot be here. Come climb upon my back – yes like that. Hmm, yes? Ah, the Last Roar of the Ancestors – it is the final defense and the final offense. There will only be a plane of glass where Wakanda once stood because we are or were a proud people and better the Earth be salted than harvested by the hands of conquerors. The proof of our brows and our backs and our hands are not for to make fat foreign devils.

And yes, I'm sure it does sound nice enough to a boy like yourself. Sadly when men who should know better the difference between strong words and the depth of one's responsibility… No, no I cannot – you must understand that it is because of pride and foolishness that we have no home and will never sleep again in the land of our Fathers.

…

…

…

Eh? Oh child, do you not know of the Avengers? Yes, the ones who killed our missionaries, and the ones who dropped a city from the sky, and the ones who ran roughshod over everyone in Johannesburg and Bucharest and Berlin. T'Chaka boy took them in after the foolishness at the airport. Yes, it was certainly impressive, but reckless and the one called War Machine paid the price.

Boy! If your mouth moves much faster you will choke on your words. Besides, I do not know why. I do not know why T'Challa spat upon his father's name. T'Chaka was a good man – one of the best I have ever known. When the crops failed he ate the least, and when the waters drained away he drank only his own tears. But he was older when his first child was set in his arms. And that child – T'Challa – became the light of his eyes and the song of his heart.

...

No our last king was not a bad man, but he was more child than man – he did not have the mind of a merchant nor the heart of a judge. Worse perhaps than a tender heart or a stubborn mind is that he did not have the soul of a king. He was a warrior through and through, but a king must be more than the strongest arm or the quickest fist. A king must realize that he is only as great as the weakest of his charges. Sadly T'Challa saw only those he surrounded himself with – strong bodies and one-track minds. And his sister Shuri he ignored because she was younger and he supposed jealous of his position.

…

Ha. I said he was not a bad man, I did not say he was not an utter fool of a man. That is how we came to be in a stand-off with most of the rest of the world. Our boy-King thought we could single-handedly take on the combined might of over a hundred countries including the United States, Russia, China, the UK, and Germany. Even a lion may be taken down by an army of ants if he is not careful. And we were not dealing with ants – instead, we faced wolves and jackals and bears, but T'Challa would not bow his head. He felt it better I suppose to simply lose it.

Why? Why be so blessedly stupid? Because we were blessed with a bounty of Vibranium, and because we held the favor of Bast, and because we have spent so long being so far in advance of other countries. It was quite simply arrogance and complacency in action. Stark Industries and Pym Technologies and many other American and European companies had been steadily closing the gap between them and us. Still, we clung to the idea that we are- we were the absolute best and no one could touch us, especially since we had Vibranium.

Yes, it is a godly metal and great things can be done with it, however, we were not the only ones with it and there is also adamantium and proto-adamantium as well. Besides which you cannot build shelters of it nor body-armor for the masses and it will do nothing to save you from modern bombs. Imagine child an explosion of fire so hungry it creates a vacuum capable of sucking your lungs out through your mouth. Imagine a light brighter than the sun at noon during the Summer season and a roar so vast it seems like echoing silence. Our precious metal will do little to help you against such things and nothing against most others including chemical weapons restricted as they supposedly are.

Yes, they are responsible for the burning white fog – White Phosphorous is what it was and it is considering a war crime to use it against enemy combatants never mind civilians. Sadly there is unlikely to be anyone to call them on it, especially after the Last Roar has sounded and I fear for those who will be scapegoated for this disaster.

…

Because there must always be a 'reason' even if it is foolish or mean-spirited or makes exactly no sense; and so perhaps it will be said that the "natural" aggression of the negro led to this. Or maybe it will be blamed on enhanced biology and those like T'Challa and his Dora and most of the Avengers will find themselves in a world of hurt. The worst outcome perhaps would be to split the blame between cultural isolation, a functional monarchy, and a thriving sense of religion. No good could possibly come from that and much evil might – sadly there is nothing to be done at this point.

…

…

Yes, the Princess (may she rest with her Fathers) did warn against this, but her brother was stubborn and said it was a matter of honor. I trust that it must have been, and I understand the need to protect the honor of one's House, but I am appalled that he would place more emphasis on _his_ Honor than _Wakanda's_. What must we look like to others that we are or were sheltering a group so self-righteous? Hell, what does it say that after the harm our own king did that he would spit in their faces when they demanded justice?

…

He contributed to the destruction of the tunnel in Berlin, wherein over a dozen people died – including several children. Many more were seriously injured, perhaps permanently, but of course in his cowardice, the boy-King cut off news from that area. It is not surprising, "He who speaks most of Honor is sorely lacking in it". Better if T'Challa had opened our arms and given aid, our medical breakthroughs are nothing to laugh at.

We could have potentially saved lives and given out new hope for millions – instead, our discoveries and medical mastery will be forever shadowed by the events of the last week. No, I am not angry with you or even the fool King or even the thrice-damned Avengers. I am angry that through no fault of my own the honor of my land, of my family, of my trade and my hands is ruined with blood and ash. I am angry that I will never be able to plead our case – that our legacy will be looked at with disgust and disdain.

…

No, I am not tired. Thank you. I am glad I found you; I do not think there will be many of us after today. Oh, the fighting was as the stories found in comics, but the suffering was as that found in a horror movie. Yes, I saw our airships take to the sky like hawks, like eagles with wings spread majestically. I also saw the black shadows of America's newest bombers drop canisters filled with horrors. I saw whole neighborhoods disappear into fog or mist chorus of screams rising up only to fall. Watched a man without a face stumble out of one sector with the bleeding skeleton of a child carefully cradled in arms burned all the way to the bone, and as he collapsed I listened to that dying thing wail with its tongueless mouth.

And even an eagle can be brought down by harrying sparrows, so I watched as our fine ships fell to the earth in flames. Then began the ceaseless explosions as they targeted our factories and shipyards and fields and bombing shelters, but it was better than the quiet afterward when bodies in stealth armor came twisting through the morning mist. Slitting throats in beds and executing half-grown boys against the walls of their homes. Then I was thankful for T'Challa even if it was his fault because the invaders in their rage had become monsters. Less so was I to see the Avengers.

…

Adding them to the fight was like pouring gasoline on a fire, even though at first it seemed to calm things down. The assassins were pulled out and the keening of grieving mothers began as old men cried out their confusion and anger to a goddess who has turned her face from us. Sadly some hours later a wall of noise began making its way inward. Ground troops like some American War movie or footage from a half-noticed war in some forest-less place with weeping children. And scattered amongst the troops were inhuman creatures craving blood.

There was a man like a mountain made flesh with skin that gleamed in the sunlight and blood that was as molten silver. There was a woman as strong as a young god who took to the air like a fish to water. There was a girl who walked through earth like most walk through air and like mafogu she reached into the chest of men to pull forth their hearts. There were others – people who stretched or wielded the elements or knew the shadows of men's minds. Who did we have to counter them? What chance did we have?

Still, there was no choice but to fight and if we failed at least the proof of our existence would lie upon their bodies. T'Challa for all he lacked the soul of a king and the mind of a merchant possessed all the strength and skill of a warrior. His hands were as claws and his claws were as scythes so that enemies fell as wheat before the mower. And his sister was as the wind from the North cutting down men like the blossoms of the Wennige tree. And the Dora were as living shadows exploiting any chance even the passing of a cloud overhead.

Still, it was not enough and then the Witch became involved and the invasion forces began to attack each other. A sickly grin sketched itself onto her thin face and then her brains painted the ground from a sniper round. The Captain roared like a bull in pain and the archer screamed a boundless grief as he fell to his knees. The woman in black – Widow I think – tried to comfort him only to end up with the Archer's blood in her eyes, on her face, in her mouth. There was no time for her to grieve as bullets flew like a locust horde – innumerable and so dense as to be almost solid.

I do not know what came after that – only that as I turned away the Captain raised his hands as though holding an unbreakable shield. I had more important things to do; do you see the pack clasped to my chest? And look boy at my eyes – what color are they? Yes, they are purple. Ah! Clever boy, I am the Ark and what I carry is the last of our people, of our culture, of our brilliance. We will never be as we once were, but a shining thread of what we were will always thread through the tapestry of the world. Ah, do you hear? No, do not look least you be struck blind, instead watch as our shadows stretch to the mountains and beyond.


End file.
